


Just One Dance

by BlueTwo



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Claude Is Bad At Feelings, Cocktail Waitress Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, M/M, Mentioned Dorothea Arnault, Mentioned Ferdinand von Aegir, Mentioned Hilda Valentine Goneril, Politician Claude von Riegan, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:00:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23565715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueTwo/pseuds/BlueTwo
Summary: Claude has no interest in Ferdinand's friend-- that is, until he sees him.
Relationships: Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 66





	Just One Dance

**Author's Note:**

> a twitter request for sugar daddy claude because sugar daddy aus are the most superior of all aus

The first thing Claude notices is legs. Long, shapely legs perfectly balanced in classy black pumps, striding through the crowd with confidence. 

He sits up a little straighter, rising slightly from his decadent recline into the rounded booth’s plush backing. His half-empty glass dangles from his fingers, forgotten, as he tries to track those enticing legs through the dim lights and dancers— until Hilda relieves it from his perilous grasp and gives a mean pull on the hair peeking from the V of his liberally unbuttoned shirt. When he yelps, it’s completely covered by the bass rocking the club, but he glares at her anyway. “You almost spilled on me,” she complains as he rubs at his abused chest. 

“No, I didn’t,” he says, ignoring her to return to where he’d last seen those legs weaving through the tables. But it’s too late; they’re gone.

Defeated, he drops back against the booth with a sigh and stares at the ceiling. 

“Aw, looks like somebody isn’t having fun,” Dorothea teases from his other side.

“I’m having a great time,” Claude deadpans. “I absolutely do not regret allowing you three to convince me to set aside the 364-page climate bill we have to present a compromise on by Tuesday.” 

“You’re a nerd,” says Hilda, cheerfully clinking his stolen glass with Dorothea’s and draining it. 

“Another round, then!” agrees Ferdinand. “My friend—the one that works here, if you’ll remember my mentioning—” Claude does remember, in fact; particularly because he has been reminded no less than six times since they’ve arrived. ”—will be more than happy to procure an extra shot for you, if it will help you unwind.” 

“It’s not a shot he needs, Ferdie. See if your friend can give him a little dance.” When Claude grimaces, Dorothea scoots closer and shakes his shoulder. “He’s just _sooo_ tense.” 

Embarrassment tinges the tips of Ferdinand’s ears but he ignores Dorothea and her antics much more smoothly than Claude. Instead, Ferdinand pushes to his feet, one hand braced on the table as he flags someone down. “Let me introduce you to my darling friend,” he says, and Hilda smacks Claude’s arm hard enough that he sits back up and forces a smile.

The smile drops as soon as he sees Ferdinand’s friend— _Lorenz_ , he’s calling him—because there they are: the long legs that had his hands clenching and mouth dry. Up close, they’re even more tempting, especially now that they’re attached to slim hips, a waist he could span with a single hand, and a collarbone so stark it practically begs for Claude’s teeth. The uncertain moue of his mouth—though interesting, for perhaps Lorenz is just about as thrilled to see Ferdinand as Claude is about being forced to come—is framed by a model’s cheekbones. When Claude finally meets his crystal clear amethyst eyes, he watches them widen and dart away.

Lorenz is a cocktail waiter, not a dancer— judging by the skintight uniform bodysuit putting his bare legs and trim waist and delightful _everything_ to advantage, and the fact that he clears his throat delicately like an opera singer and says, “Can I offer any of you another round?”

“Actually,” Claude says, pulling out his wallet before Ferdinand can wholeheartedly agree. “I was wondering how much it would be for a dance.” 

**Author's Note:**

> if i end up writing more of this and you see this reposted as part of a long fic, say nothing


End file.
